Destroying Angel
by elleindie
Summary: When Bella goes off in search of James, Edward evaulates what it means to be a hero. The journey to saving Bella's life, written from Edward's standpoint. Please R&R with criticism, comments, and the like.
1. Waiting

One-hundred and seven years. That's one thousand, two hundred and eighty-four months; five thousand, five hundred and sixty-four weeks; thirty-nine thousand, twenty-nine days, and too many hours, minutes, seconds, and moments than I care to figure. Every single one of them spent _waiting_; waiting for something _familiar._ For something worthwhile.

And then she came along, and my wait was over.

I'd known, from that first day in Biology, that she was it. The epiphany I'd been seeking. The answer to the unasked questions I'd clung to for the past century. She was there, and in the form of some terrible destroying angel. My wildest dream and my worst nightmare, folded into one small, delicate, brown-eyed frame. The way she _smelled_. . . it was almost more than I could handle. It was bordering disastrous.

After that, it was a few more days of waiting – waiting for my curse to subside enough that I could engage her in a conversation, enough that I could sit beside her without fighting tooth and nail against my will. And then waiting for her to make up her mind – although before I'd even spoken to her, I could feel her attraction. It was much different than magnets. It was something much stronger – a force of nature that could not be reckoned with.

Before, waiting had been sweet relief, for I knew that, eventually, something revolutionary - something good - was coming. I only had to wait for it to arrive.

This form of waiting, though, was hell.

The big steel plane around me felt like a cage. The seats were small and confining, and the seatbelt buckled around my waist could have been easily snapped. In fact, I felt I could get to Sky Harbor International much faster if I were to simply burst through the emergency exit. . . the fall wouldn't hurt, merely a shocking way to land.

Carlisle's hand landed on my arm, where it rested on the armrest. I'd been drumming my fingers. Emmett, who was to my right, had long since adopted a pair of headphones, tired of my quiet sighs, snarls, and vehement exclamations. _Just wait,_ Carlisle's thoughts pleaded. _We'll be there in a matter of minutes._

Minutes still felt too long. Too long until I would see her, waiting in the terminal. Too long until I would see her eyes light up when I met her gaze, and too long until I could hold her in my arms. It was all too long. Carlisle's hand tensed on my arm momentarily, before he let go.

The seatbelt light flared into life above our heads, and as if to make his point, Carlisle smiled at me. I didn't attempt to smile back, only stared at the back of the gray headrest directly in front of me. I barely heard the announcement to prepare to land. I had prepared half an hour ago.

I didn't watch the ever-growing landmass below us as it loomed outside the window. It was taking much too long to land for my taste. I put my elbows on my knees and rested my head against my palms, waiting. Just. . . waiting.

It seemed like hours later that the plan around me jostled and people began to move around us; Emmett had removed his headphones and nudged my shoulder. I stood up and waited for the passing crowd to move; they seemed to move as if time itself was freezing, and I could feel my nerves beginning to fray. Carlisle collected their bags from the overhead compartment without speaking, but his thoughts were far from silent. _Stay rational, Edward. Five minutes until we reach the terminal, at most. Stay calm. Once we find the rest of the family, we can head for Phoenix and find James. But we'll do it together._

I nodded quickly before taking my bag from him and following him into the aisle. It took every particle of my being – every particle that remained convinced of the fact that more was at stake than just Bella's life, but also my familys' – to take slower steps than I so desperately wanted to. It would not do, under the current circumstances – where every second was infinitely more precious than the last – to expose myself for what I was: a monster. I painstakingly lifted each foot and set it back down, all the while cursing these weak and impressionable humans around us for exiling us the way they had for so many millennia.

We finally reached the small porthole leading to the long, rickety tunnel that would carry us to the terminal, and my breathing – rather than relax – began to come in quicker, smaller, silent bursts. The generic advertisements on the walls passed as slightly colorful blurs, meaningless. By the time we reached the opening of the terminal, I was no longer breathing.

The airport blossomed around us; living, breathing, thriving, a perverse opposite of me. My eyes searched for one face, and in doing so saw every single one around me.

There was a small group of people – a family, from the looks of it – gathered around an elderly woman. As we passed I heard one of the young boys say something about a grandmother. A small ways past them, a couple embraced, their arms fitting around each other as if that's what they were designed to do. The ache to feel Bella in my arms and to make sure she hadn't hurt herself threatened to bring me to my knees, and Carlisle's hand found my shoulder again.

"Almost there," he murmured, and I nodded stiffly. I could see a tuft of Jasper's blond hair, sticking out over the throng of moving people.

Emmett quickly cleared a path for us; his sheer size scared most people into submission, and they backed away quickly and without protest. I silently rejoiced; he acted as a strange bodyguard, cutting a route directly to our desired destination, as well as protecting us from exposure by my hand. With him in front of me, and Carlisle behind, the urge to run much faster than I should was dulled. It was there, but it wasn't as strong as it had been on the plane.

And then there was a glorious break in the crowd before us, and Alice's face caught my eye.

There was something wrong with her expression. Anger, sadness, worry, stress – all combined into one rolling wave that kept clouding her features. I was too focused on her face to notice her thoughts, until three lone words crossed my mind.

_He'll be furious._

It had an effect I hadn't expected of some small statement; my anger flared, and I was moving much faster than the casual pace Emmett had set for us. I reached Alice's side, and she flinched.

"Alice. . ." My voice was ragged and hoarse.

Jasper took her hand and she looked down. In that small gesture I read everything I'd blocked out from my extra hearing; now the voices swelled within my head, and I did nothing to try to block them out. Instead, my hands clenched into ice-white fists, and I focused on the tone of Alice's thoughts.

_She's gone. She ran, and I'm so stupid to have let this happen. . . I'm so sorry, Edward._ She threw in the apology for my benefit, so she wasn't forced to say the words aloud. I didn't think I could handle hearing that again, her voice dripping with her regret. She was truly sorry, and I could see how angry she was at herself. I couldn't comfort her, though. My legs had chosen that moment to stop supporting me.

Carlisle's hand shot out and caught me by the elbow, so that I wouldn't collapse onto the small pile of luggage at my feet and crush it. I struggled to gain control of my senses, and felt numb; there was a room around me, but all I noticed was the ceiling swimming overhead, seemingly not in any fixed position. People milled about me, apologizing for accidentally elbowing me, but I didn't hear any voices, didn't feel anything. There was nothing but the small ring my family had created around me, and the crushing, desolate sense of loss I felt.

She ran. She went in search of the monster, and now would probably die because of it – because of her fear that I would be hurt. It seemed so stupid, and yet I knew she thought herself noble. Perhaps she was. But I couldn't care.

I didn't say a word to my family as I charged through the airport in search of the doors, wondering if, possibly, I now traced Bella's last footsteps, and praying – to whatever god that would hear me – that wasn't the case.


	2. Drive

There was no trail. Her scent led me to the sidewalk outside, and that was all. After that, it was as if she'd already become a ghost, already too far gone for me to make any difference. I wouldn't let that happen; I would fight to the death to protect her, and there was no foreseeable second option. I read Alice's thoughts, and she saw us there – the long mirrored room – fighting for her life. Not for _our_ lives: our lives meant little to us today. It was for the one, small, infinitely important human that we held much dearer to us than we did our own safety. It wasn't a question of whether it was rational or not. Rationality had taken a backseat the day she'd crossed paths with me.

When I looked back on that first day, it seemed too short a time. Bella and I had not had nearly enough time together, and already she was being taken away from me. It took every strand of effort I knew to not break down; to break down would be to accept defeat. The encouraging thoughts from my family helped, also, although they were just a dim murmur compared to my own inner turmoil.

I had tried to rely on Alice's visions to tell me if we would save Bella or not; I was angry when her visions flipped constantly. With every movement Alice seemed to make, her vision would change from success to failure; once I saw a flicker of us kneeling beside her, and my ice-cold lips were pressed to her hand, my eyes closed. I couldn't tell if I was doing so in joy or in sorrow, however, and that uncertainty sent a thrill of remorse and anxiety through the pit of my stomach.

Carlisle's thoughts were calming. He was unnaturally quiet as he drove through Phoenix, moving too fast for the speed limit but much too slow for my taste, but the words that flowed through my mind were slow and consoling: _We will reach her, and we will take care of James. Just focus now on reaching her; don't think about what might go wrong. We won't let that happen._ It was a small relief, but not enough. I was sure that if I still held ownership over a beating, thriving heart, it would have stopped by now in apprehension and overwhelming fear. My pessimistic tendencies threatened to take control.

"How much farther?" Jasper's voice was low and annoyed. He'd attempted several times to sooth me, but each time the idea had crossed his mind I had snarled at him and barked at him to leave me alone. I had no use for a false sense of security, not when that security might cost Bella's life. I could not go into battle unprepared, with all my synapses firing of someone else's accord. His persuasion seemed like shooting myself in the foot: utterly useless.

"A few blocks," Carlisle answered. My fists curled around the fabric of my jeans and the tough material gave way, leaving a horizontal fissure the width of my thigh. Alice glared at me in response to the ripping sound, and I grimaced out the window. This was taking much too long. Bella could already be with that monster. . .

Carlisle groaned, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. My eyes snapped to look out the windshield, and growled in frustration; he'd somehow hit a traffic jam, and my precious seconds were dwindling away as the car crawled to a stop.

"Carlisle," Alice whispered, her voice high and panicked. I glared at her. "Carlisle, we need to drive. Now."

I scanned Alice's thoughts, and moaned in horror. The scene was to grisly to withstand. I was tempted to run the rest of the way, to throw the door open now and _go_. My hand was on the handle before Carlisle's voice broke the long, deafeningly painful silence that had fallen over the five of us.

"Edward, I can get there within moments, but you _must stay in the car._" I checked his reflection in the rearview mirror, and his watchful eyes were trained on my fingers, poised on the half-unlatched door. "I understand how difficult the situation is, but you cannot get out. It's noon, the sun's directly overhead."

"There are people everywhere," Emmett added uselessly. I scowled and slammed my head against the back of the seat, hard enough that I heard the long metal prongs holding the headrest begin to creak, a precursor to snapping completely in two.

"You do realize she could be dying right now," I spat, my eyes clenched shut so they would not endure the fury my eyes held. I felt the pang of regret for yelling at them but didn't acknowledge it. "He could be _killing her _and you're worried about the sunlight!"

"Edward, you must think of your family."

"She _is_ my _life_, my family. She's yours, too."

Carlisle sighed and looked out the windshield. "Yes, she is."

For a moment the car was silent, and then Carlisle slammed his foot down on the brake pedal, throwing the car into reverse. He flew backward as far and as fast as the encroaching traffic jam would allow, and flew into the turn lane, somehow maneuvering a neat and efficient U-turn and heading us back in the opposite direction. Relief flooded through me; time was no longer wasting as we flew through the streets, the car a long, low, sleek machine purring beneath us as we approached sixty miles per hour on a residential road.

He turned right and found a street that was free from obstacles; he gunned down it and found the turn-off that would lead us to the dance studio, in close proximity of Bella's old house. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath: just seconds away lurked the moment of truth, when we would learn if we were successful or if all our attempts had been in vain.

The car slammed to a halt in front of a seemingly random building on an empty street. Carlisle glanced quickly around the car. "Go, Edward. _Quickly._"

But I was already out the door and flying towards the dance studio, the sun glancing off my skin. The car door was pulled shut and it sped off in search of a better-shaded parking space as I pushed through the doors at breakneck speed.

As soon as I reached the dark, cool entry way, his generic voice crept up on me, almost breaking my reserve.

_. . .A treat, indeed. And no Cullens to spoil my fun. Actually, that might have been more fun – a true hunt, then. A true fight. The human is a pretty, fickle little thing, but she's not made for battle. She won't last long at all. . . Such a shame that she won't. The torture is the best part. . ._

A low snarl ripped through my throat of its own accord and I lunged through the dance hall, my voice bouncing back at me off the mirrored walls.


	3. Impossible

The past couple of minutes had passed like knifes, each one stabbed at some unknown part of me, in the region of my former heart. Seeing Bella's lifeless form was devastating, and to know that I had failed utterly was a pain stronger than I had ever known, in either of my lives.

And then when she had stirred, murmuring my name, my pain changed. She was alive – not well, but alive. She was hurt, and that alone sent a chill of remorse echoing through my hollow veins. Her leg was broken, and she was bruised all over; I took extreme care in touching her, and refused to acknowledge the pooling crimson below her, which flowed freely from her head. I knew that if I concentrated on the growing stain just inches away from where I knelt, my self-restraint would be put to the ultimate test, a test far worse than it had already endured this long day. I concentrated on not breathing in the scent, but I knew my eyes were furious with the desire.

And there was the most recent pain, which had struck when Bella had awoken after what felt like far too long, and complained that her hand was on fire.

I felt a swelling, uncontrollable fury rise within me at the site of the wound on her hand. It too was bleeding, but I somehow saw past that; the hole was distinctly shaped like a dangerous set of teeth. And the fire in her veins now was causing her to cry out in pain as his venom slowly blossomed throughout her system.

Carlisle had pleaded with me; if it wasn't done soon, it would be too late, and my efforts to keep her alive -_ human _alive - would have been wasted. Alice's vision had come true, but it was blaringly different than I had imagined it; she'd seen me drawing out the venom. I'd misinterpreted it, and now faced the consequences of my misunderstanding.

I couldn't do it.

I knew I should – I must – if she were to remain this way, human. But could I trust myself to stop once her blood was clean? Could I really put myself so close to my greatest temptation and expect my self-restraint not to be tarnished because of it? One taste was all it would take. I knew that one taste would be pivotal; if I were truly as strong as I wanted to believe, I could stop when I had completed my mission.

But I wasn't that strong, and the memories of all the different ways I'd planned to kill her on that very first day made me painfully aware of that.

I wanted to protect her, from danger and from this lifestyle, but what happened when saving her from one meant sacrificing the other? Could I put her in danger to keep her human?

I could, but _would_ I?

Carlisle's thoughts begged with me to do the right thing. _You have to do it now or it will never work, and the venom will begin to creep through her blood system. Please, Edward, think: if Bella is to remain human, this is the only way. I'm busy with her other injuries or I would do it; Alice can resist the smell but one taste will send her over the edge. _

And Alice's soprano thoughts tinkled, _Perhaps it's better this way. I did _see_ it. . . _

I didn't snarl at her as I wanted, but instead seized Bella's hand gently and raised the wound to my lips, making up my mind and swearing to myself that I was strong enough. . . Pleading with myself to listen to common sense. I closed my eyes, and took a deep, steadying breath.

The breath was enough to fill my head with her scent – so much stronger, so potent now that it was exposed and not hidden by her skin – and my senses threatened to gain control. I hadn't really tasted it yet, but already my feral instincts were almost overpowering; her blood was so sweet, so warm, so rich. . . it would be impossible to stop. _Impossible._ I would kill her, and I only realized that too late. . .

One long, deep draw and there was a bitter, toxic taste on my tongue; James' venom was almost out now, but before I could get it all the taste of it attacked my senses. It masked the taste of Bella's blood completely, and I no longer worried about not stopping; I was worried about drawing out every last drop of poison so I could stop and clear the vile taste from my tongue. I took one more long siphon from her wound, and tasted the too-delicious clean blood before the metallic, somehow less-bitter taste of the drugs Carlisle had given her. My hands coaxed her hand away from my lips, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Carlisle took her hand and began to wrap the wound; I opened my eyes briefly to see that he had already braced her leg and stopped the flow of blood from her skull.

My shoulders slumped from the exhaustion my restraint had caused me; I closed my eyes and concentrated on not breathing again; her wounds were now sealed, but the pool of blood remained on the floor, taunting me. Alice patted me gently on the shoulder, the gesture so light that I barely felt it. I was still faintly annoyed at her last thought, and didn't look up at her.

"Edward," Bella murmured, her voice groggy and dull and muddled. My eyes flickered open.

"He's right here, Bella." Carlisle continued to tend to her injuries, and I sidled a little closer to her.

"Stay, Edward, stay with me. . ." Her voice betrayed her own fatigue, and I smiled dimly. Her eyes remained closed.

"I will." I cursed mentally when my voice came out tense and vaguely exultant.

She sighed, and I found myself praising the small sound that escaped past her lips. She was alive. Not well, but alive. That was all I needed; to know that I hadn't failed, that all our efforts had worked out to our advantage. And to know that Bella was still human, and by my hand. I knew she'd be annoyed to find out that I'd thwarted her first – and hopefully last – chance to become one of us, but as long as her cheeks flushed with anger when it happened, I would be satisfied. For the time being I contented myself with reveling in her safety, and being near her. The past several days had been too long. I had driven myself sick with worry, and the others to the point of exhaustion with my anxiety. It was over now, and although there were a few hurdles left – the healing process Bella now faced, and explaining everything to Chief Swan, with me at her side – I, as well as the rest of my family, was floating with relief.

After telling Carlisle her blood was clean and deciding to move Bella – she complained about the smell of the gasoline Jasper, Alice, and Emmett had used – I lifted her into my arms, carefully avoiding her injuries -- her leg was in a makeshift brace until we could reach a hospital, and her skull was surely tender from the long gash there – and carried her towards the car.

"Sleep now, Bella," were the last words I murmured before her eyes drifted closed and she fell towards unconsciousness.

_Author's Note:_

_Hello, readers! If you're reading this it's safe to assume you read the story (or at least I hope that's the case)  
__and I'd like to thank you for doing so! _

_I'd also like to explain that I realize this specific plot has already been hashed out here on several times, and although everyone has done an excellent job of writing their idea of how things happened, I felt compelled to do the same, no matter how lame, redundant, or poorly planned it came out._

_ Besides, the chance to get behind Edward's eyes for a few short chapters is irrestible.  
Wink wink._

_Again, thanks for reading, and please leave a comment. I thrive on feedback, be it positive or not.  
**Sometimes** criticism gives me that warm fuzzy feeling where warm fuzzy comments do not.  
Help me better myself and my writing, and be not afraid of what you need to say._

_Cheers, fellow fanpires._

_AGK_


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